


all good girls go to hell

by LamiaCalls



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Costume Parties & Masquerades, Cunnilingus, F/M, Face-Fucking, Heat Fic Summer Treat, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, PWP, Sex, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:02:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24718717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LamiaCalls/pseuds/LamiaCalls
Summary: On a sweltering July evening, Lily Evans goes to a party at Malfoy Manor to investigate on behalf of the Order. But it's hard to stay on-mission when she's gripped by a heat cycle.
Relationships: Lucius Malfoy/Lily Evans Potter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45
Collections: Heat Fic Summer 2020





	all good girls go to hell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Val_Creative](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/gifts).



It was a sticky warm evening in early August and Lily Evans looked up at Malfoy Manor. It was bigger than she had imagined. A sweet breeze swam through the air, but it provided only a scant relief given how Lily was feeling. As she walked up the stairs and through the doors, she took note of figures gathered in clumps, talking in low voices. While she recognised the stances and shapes of some of them from her school years, it was hard to put faces to names when their masks obscured their features.

Of course, had she not been so distracted by other matters, maybe she would be doing a better job of this. Instead, her eyes kept flicking over their bodies, lingering on the cut of impressive shoulders and exposed flesh.

Inside the Manor, the heat was only slightly less oppressive. The ballroom was easy to locate, following the trail of voices and people in sumptuous dress wandering in and out of the doors.

The room was enormous, almost the size of the Great Hall by her reckoning. On the long side, opposite the door, the room was lined with glass doors, which had been swung wide open. Too, Lily could detect some cooling spells in the air. Together with the doors, they did a passable job, but it was not enough to cut through the heat of a hundred odd bodies. She was impressed, nonetheless, at the youngest Malfoy’s tastes: the party was the most sumptuous she’d ever seen.

She ducked inside properly, and stood in an empty corner closest to the doors.

The problem was, she was already having trouble with her desires. Her heat had come on two days ago. Nobody at the Order knew about her condition. Or, well, Remus did, but he was having trouble enough now the full moon was approaching, and she didn’t want to bother him with this. With her mentor, Professor Bream, incapacitated by Death Eaters only a month before, there was no one who knew how to brew the right potion, nor anyone to help her with any desires that couldn’t be dampened.

She’d tried her best to recreate the potion, of course, and it had, for the most part, made it less an uncontrollable urge and more of an annoying itch she just couldn’t scratch. And oh, did she want to scratch.

But moving around people? Rubbing against them, feeling their warm bodies sliding against hers, brushing against every sensitive spot on her shoulders and breasts… She gave a little involuntarily shudder. She had already been wet, but even the thought of moving through the crowd was soaking her now. Her lips parted. It was hard to breathe, all the kinetic energy in the room already affecting her, not helped by the summer heat and the strong scent of sweat and perfume that hung heavy in the air, delicious and tempting.

Her best choice, she decided, upon looking around the room, was to make her way over to the bar, where people were waiting in an orderly fashion to be served by the bartender, rather than in a messy, writhing crowd.

Besides, a drink might help. Something to do with her hands so she didn’t have to concentrate on not touching her own body, as much as she wanted to. And not having to brush up against people lowered her risk of losing control and rutting into them in her desperate need to stimulate herself.

No. This was safer. And she needed the time to properly survey in the room anyway.

The Order, after all, had sent her there on a very specific mission: to find Lucius Malfoy’s known associates, and see if he was using the party as a cover for something more nefarious. Lily was the safest bet: not many knew about her ties to the Order and so she was unlikely to come under question like the others might. It hadn’t taken much to convince Severus to extend an invitation for her — though, he had ended up cancelling on her only that morning. Apparently, struck down by a nasty case of dragon pox, though Lily wondered if he’d just had second thoughts about it all — he always had struggled with social events, and going to soiree with a friend who hadn’t spoken to him in 3 years would have been a lot for anyone. Even Lily had been secretly relieved to receive the letter explaining his absence, not least because she was in a sorry state to see someone. She would not have been wise to give into her desires around Severus.

So. That was the plan: drown some of her desires with a gin and tonic while looking for anything suspicious from afar.

She recognised some people as she passed, even with their masks on. There was Phillip Nott in a tight shirt, there was Madeline Zabini in a deep green summer gown. Somewhere in the crowd, she was sure she caught sight of the two Black sisters in slinky dresses, giggling at something Rabastan Lestrange was saying.

She tried her best to keep her eyes on people’s faces. The masks made it easier; concentrating on what they were supposed to represent, the fine needlework and sequins and feather spritzes. But still it was a conscious effort.

The cut of the robes on the men emphasised hard shoulders and strong arms. On women, low cuts that showed off glistening cleavages and slits that gave way to gorgeous legs. Easily, she could imagine any one of them wrapped around her.

She blinked, dragging her eyes back to the masks again as she queued.

But even the masks framed lips in such a way that she couldn’t help but imagine kissing them, biting them, watching them trail a line down her body…

No, this was no good. She desperately needed the drink, but right afterwards? She decided she would have to find a bathroom to masturbate in. Then she could come back with a little clearer a mind. This was her first solo assignment for the Order. She didn’t want to let them down.

The bartender was quick and professional. She was impressed that he was human at all; she had attended a pureblood soiree in the past, where all the waitstaff were House Elves who were ritually ignored by every other person there, not even a thank you. So, perhaps, Lucius having a human was something of a status symbol — rather than going for free labour, he had paid someone? He was cute too; not ordinarily her type, but this was not an ordinary time for her. Chiselled jaw, short cropped black hair, broad and muscular. Yes, he would do nicely. It was only the shocking cold of the glass in her hand that broke her of her dangerous daydream enough that she moved away from the bar, instead opting to stand by one of the doors so the breeze might hit her.

She gulped the drink down, hissing as the ice cubes clattered against her teeth, but revelling in the icy coolness spread down her throat. Yes, this was just what she needed.

The crowd was heaving. Many stood, drinks in hand and talking in groups. But the dance floor was surprisingly well-attended, given the heat wave that was gripping Britain. It was probably helped by the fantastic band; she had thought Malfoy far too stuffy for any music this, well, _fun_.

She pressed the half-drunk glass to her neck, letting out a little gasp, as she watched the dancers move, pressed against each other in what, outside of the context of dancing, would be classed as positively lewd. Hands travelling over their partners, breasts thrust against chests, lips wet as they looked into their partners eyes… Yes, Lily was _definitely_ going to have to find a bathroom. But it was hard to tear her eyes away from the moving bodies.

Her own body was clad in a slip of dark red dress, with a low scoop neck and thin, flimsy straps. It reached the floor, with a slit that carved itself right up to mid-thigh. It was racier than she had wanted, but she’d owned nothing suitable for the occasion and at the last minute had had to borrow something off of Dorcas Meadowes, who dressed more bravely than Lily usually did. The material was thin, and the dress cut straight-down, in a way that meant that every step had it flowing and sliding over her body. It would be enough to make her feel sexy at the best of times, and this was more than the best of times for that sort of thing. Her mask, in contrast, was simple black lace dripping with jewels and fringed by ostrich feather. Looking at the other women, it seemed she had made a good choice: nothing from her wardrobe would have blended in so nicely. Such a shame she could do little about how it made her feel to wear it, though.

“Enjoying the show?” a voice growled beside her.

Lily almost spilled her drink. She had been watching the couples so intently that she hadn’t even noticed Lucius Malfoy, the host himself, had come to stand beside to her. She gulped. This was not the surveillance from afar that she had been planning. She took a breath.

“It’s certainly something,” she said, smiling. She raised her glass. “I can’t believe anyone would want to dance in this weather.”

This wasn’t strictly true, of course. What Lily wouldn’t’ve given to rub up against someone, _anyone_ in that moment… But that didn’t make for such polite conversation.

“What’s a little more heat on a night like tonight?” he drawled. His eyes flicked back to the dancers, but then he returned his intense gaze to her. “I didn’t realise I had sent you an invite.”

Lily was glad of the heat—both the warmth of the weather and the needy heat between her legs—that was making her flush anyway. She was surprised even that he remembered her; they’d had barely any contact in the few years they’d shared at Hogwarts, and none since. And while the Malfoy’s were famous within the wizarding world, Lily Evans was not exactly a household name.

She shrugged as nonchalantly as she could manage.

“I was meant to be Severus’ plus one, but he couldn’t make it,” she said. She turned back to the dancers. It was easier to act casually when she wasn’t looking him in the face. “But when else would I get a chance to see one of Lucius Malfoy’s famous parties?”

“When indeed,” Lucius said. His voice was deep, and travelled right down her spine as he spoke. She tried her best to ignore it. “Had I known an invite was all it took to get you here, I might have sent one sooner.”

He was a shameless flirt, she knew that, and yet her treacherous body didn’t seem to care about that, taking the words instead at face value. Regardless of what her body thought, Lily herself rolled her eyes.

“Ah, the lady thinks I flatter,” he said. She looked back at him, at his dangerous little smirk and concentrated gaze. She watched his eyes flick down—and down again—before returning to her eyes. “Perhaps a turn on the dance floor will convince you otherwise?”

Lily sucked in a breath. That was a terribly bad idea. She needed to get to a bathroom, pronto.

As she opened her mouth to refuse, she realised what she was doing. Wasting a good opportunity to speak, one-on-one with Lucius. How valuable would that be to her Order brethren? Invaluable, she was sure.

And it was definitely nothing to do with the idea of placing her body next to his. Definitely, definitely not.

“Maybe a quick dance,” she heard herself saying. “But, I need to go the ladies first.”

His smirk grew. “Excellent. Just through there.”

He motioned back through the doors she’d entered from, the way to them still blissfully clear of people. The first bathroom was already occupied, and so she took it as an excuse to wander upstairs. There was one just off the landing of the first floor, and she slipped in, locking the door behind her—even casting a hasty locking charm for safety.

Now, finally alone, her hands were practically shaking as she slunk down onto the bathroom floor, pulling her dress up and pushing her knickers aside. She was soaking wet, and moaned as her fingers made first contact. This was not a time for dawdling, for drawing anything out. She needed simulation right there and then, and her fingers dove straight for the most pleasurable points. She worked quickly, trying at first to imagine someone faceless, nameless, but finally being too pent up to care as she imagined Lucius Malfoy bending her over and fucking her roughly in front of the entire crowd of people downstairs, men and women masturbating as they watched him ram into her over a table, grunting and gripping and her moaning and him pulling at her hair—

It took only a few minutes for her to come. Her orgasms when she was in heat were so much more intense than any other time—like lights going off behind her eyes, her body shuddering and shaking and feeling like she might lose grip altogether on reality. She panted hard, her hand falling to her side, still slick with juices, her pussy throbbing.

She sat for a few minutes, before she felt able to collect herself off the floor and her breath returned to normal.

It had helped, definitely. Her body didn’t feel quite as on the edge of something as before. But it hadn’t helped as much as she might have liked. Masturbation, unfortunately, rarely did more than delay her needs, and she had been masturbating for two days now, with only brief respite. It was only the subpar potion she’d brewed that kept her from breaking now.

She smoothed out her hair in the mirror and washing her hands in the sink. She would have to get the dance over and done with quickly, while she still had a hold on herself.

Downstairs, he was still in the same spot she had left him, but talking to a man in a sharp suit who Lily didn’t recognise. She might have taken the opportunity to lose herself in the crowd, if it weren’t for the fact she knew her Orderly duties relied on her not spending the night avoiding him. And, again, it definitely didn’t have anything to do with wanting his hands on her body. No, she told herself firmly, Orderly responsibilities only.

“Have you met Amycus Carrow? This is Lily Evans,” Lucius said as she approached.

“No, I haven’t had the pleasure,” Amycus said. There was something in his tone that made her suck her breath in—or perhaps it was the unrepentant way his eyes wandered down her body.

“Nice to meet you,” she said. She held out a hand, and he bent to kiss it, lingering for just a moment.

“Where have you been hiding this one, Lucy?”

“I told you not to call me that,” Lucius growled in warning. “Lily is a friend of Severus’, so blame him, not me.”

“Well,” Amycus said, eyeing her again. “I can see why Severus might want to keep you secret.”

“You’re being a lech. We’re going to dance now and leave you to that,” Lucius said, waving a hand at his friend. He turned back at to Lily, and nodded towards the dance floor. “After you.”

“No fair!” Amycus called jovially.

Lily smiled to herself as she walked away. Even in her heightened state, she wasn’t such a fan of that kind of, as Lucius put it, lechery. Her body certainly enjoyed it, but she was glad Lucius had given them a reason to get away.

What she was enjoying, however, was walking towards the dance floor and seeing people’s eyes catch and linger on her.

She shook her head, tried to clear the thoughts away. In all likelihood, as aroused as she still was, she was probably imagining the looks anyway. And even if she wasn’t, would any of these men or women look at that way if they knew what she was? That she was not pureblood or even half-blood… It was a wonder Lucius was even talking to her, and she wondered if he would be so willing to dance if even half the people at this dance knew of her Muggleborn status.

Whatever his motives, it didn’t matter. The only thing she needed to remember now was the name of his associate, Amycus Carrow. That would be useful information for the Order.

Thank Merlin she was ahead of Lucius as they moved through the crowd, though. She was able to hide every twist in her expression from Lucius as she went, biting down hard on her lip to hold in any little pants that threatened to escape as her nipple brushed against the rough sequins of someone’s dress, heat all the while building between her legs.

They arrived on the dance floor, and he fell in step with her, taking her hand in his as he dragged them somewhere into the farthest corner, the one most caught in shadow.

“Embarrassed to be seen with me?” she asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

He didn’t flinch for even a second. “It’s the closest to the door. I thought you might like the breeze.”

She pursed her lips. Delightful though the breeze was, but it also played across her skin in a way that sent goosebumps running down her chest and arms.

During her bathroom escapade, the music had slowed down. Lucius pulled her towards him. He placed his hands on her waist, tantalisingly close to the bottom curve of her breasts. She tried to hide her sharp intake of breath by clearing her throat, but his knowing smirk suggested she hadn’t hid it well enough by half.

She reached up, placing a hand on either side of his shoulders. He looked at her intensely, gaze unbreaking. It made her feel quite naked beneath it.

She looked around her instead, trying to find anything to hold her gaze, ignoring the heat growing on her cheeks as he took the lead. His hands were strong and warm, and with only the thin barrier of her dress, it was hard not to imagine them wandering elsewhere on her body. Or what they would feel like with no barrier at all.

“There’s something different about you,” he said.

“I didn’t wear dresses like this back then,” she said. All she could think about was how much better it would feel if she weren’t wearing one at all.

“I don’t mean you’ve changed,” he said. His voice dropped lower. “I mean, since the minute you walked in, I’ve not been able to keep my eyes off of you. And now we’re here, I don’t know that I could take my hands off you if I tried.”

She gulped, her heart fluttering, heat welling inside of her. Oh, no, no, no. This was no good. She blinked, tried to think straight. She felt his fingers twitch, and she panted as they brushed against her too-sensitive skin.

“You’re in heat, aren’t you?”

It was a simple question all told, but she stiffened immediately, her sense coming back to her. She glanced around, but no one was close enough to hear, not Lucius’ low whisper. But was it that obvious? Did everyone here know? Had that Amycus Carrow known? She was blushing a deep red, she knew, but she hoped her makeup would make it less obvious.

“Don’t worry,” he said, squeezing her waist. She let out an involuntary huff. Like he had read her mind, he said: “I don’t think anyone else here would be able to tell. I tend to be…sensitive to these things.”

She shut her eyes, tried to process the information. Bream, her mentor, had told her that this was the case. That like him, there were other wizard and witches who weren’t affected by heats, but were sensitive to the pheromones given off by heat. Less rare, though, by all accounts, than the scant few witches and wizards who actually had heat cycles; it was unbecoming and so had been bred out of the purebloods. Bream had supposed that it was some stray recessive gene in her bloodline that had somehow been awakened by her magic.

She looked back up at him. He was watching her carefully, intently.

“What are you going to do with that information?” she said, just as carefully. Her voice was weaker than she would like. But between the nagging desire to rut up against him and his revelation, it was a wonder she could speak at all.

“What would you like us to do?” he said, an infuriating little grin appearing.

“I would like it to be kept to ourselves,” she said quietly. She darted her eyes around, but still no one seemed to be aware of their conversation. “This isn’t something — this is private.”

He frowned, for just a moment, before his smirk reappeared.

“No, Lily,” he said, and her heart seized up until he pulled her closer. “I said, I’m sensitive to these things. So, I mean what would you like us to do about this.”

Pressed against him now (oh so warm and lithe and smelling of leather and whiskey and fuck fuck fuck), it took her a moment to register what he seemed to be talking about. A hardness against her thigh. She blinked, surprised. She wasn’t the only one suffering between them. Heat spread up from between her legs, her breath coming shallow. Before she could think too much about it, she pressed herself against it, moving her hips ever so slightly so she rubbed against it.

Lucius hissed, and she looked up at him, his face twisting and his fingers digging into his waist. Enjoying the fact she could elicit such a look from him, she moved to grind again, but he stepped back, just far enough that she couldn’t press. She tried to move towards him again, her pussy aching to feel him against her again, but his firm hands held her in place.

“Yes, thank you,” he said gravely. “I won’t survive much of that.”

She batted her eyelids up at him. She felt alive, tingling. Like a spider who had caught a fly to fuck herself upon.

“I thought Lucius Malfoy was a man of great control,” she said slyly. She ran her hands along his shoulders, down his strong arms, her nails out though she knew he would not feel much of it through his robes. “A wizard incapable of getting flustered.”

“Mm,” Lucius grunted. His raised an eyebrow at her. “And I didn’t think Lily Evans was such a filthy witch in need of a good fucking.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she bit down on her lip. Merlin, she needed him. All of him. There, here, anywhere, it didn’t really matter to her in that moment.

“Perhaps I am,” she said. Her voice had lost its edge, was all husk now.

He considered her for a moment, an agonising moment where she wondered what she would do if he, at this last juncture, would reject her.

“First floor, turn right. Third door. I’ll meet you there.”

That wasn’t what she wanted. She didn’t want him to take his hands off of her at any point, even for a moment, even if they might find her again later. No, she needed him now, hiking her dress up and ramming her against the wall.

But if he was unwilling to do that…

She took a breath, and broke off quickly, marching back across the dance floor, desperately trying to make it to the bedroom before she either broke, or accidentally gave her affliction away somehow. Surely everyone would be able to see through the thin fabric of her dress at how hard her nipples were despite the balmy evening, if they stopped to look for even a moment.

She took the stairs two at a time. She knew she should be subtle, inconspicuous. But it was hard to give a shit about that at that moment in the time. She passed the bathroom she’d wanked herself silly in only twenty minutes before, and two doors later, slipped inside what turned out to be a bedroom.

A spare bedroom, by the looks of the sparse decoration, but with a double-bed plenty big enough.

She turned back to the door to wait, her breath coming quickly, though whether from the gnawing needfulness of her heat or from rushing upstairs, she wasn’t sure.

While she waited, her hands, as if they possessed a mind of their own, began to snake towards her knickers, but Lucius, apparently as impatient as she, arrived only a minute later. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes dark. He closed the door behind him and turned to look at her.

There was only a split second before he took a step towards her, and kissed her full on the mouth, his mouth warm and needful, tongue darting in. His hands were on her face, cupping each side of her jaw. One mussed into her hair, undid her mask. She let it fall between them. She pressed deeply into him, the warmth and desire shaking her, and she ran a hand down his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his robe. Merlin, she wanted him out of those clothes.

He broke off first, looking at her with hooded eyes, his mouth smeared with her red lipstick. For a long moment, he regarded her. She fidgeted, stepping from one foot to the other, her hands going to her hips. She needed to be touched, so desperately she might burst, and if he were going to make her wait…

Maddeningly slowly, he ran his hands down from his shoulders, lingering to stroke her nipples. She whimpered, leaning into him, but then his hands were on the move again. At her hips, he used the slit of her dress to push it aside, and stroked the front of her lingerie.

She took a shaky breath, closed her eyes. The feeling of the soft pressure of his fingers, combined with the folds of her lacy knickers, was so pleasurable on her clit. She wanted more. Lucky for her, he pushed her knickers aside.

His fingers lay claim to her.

She shuddered, needed to lean against his shoulder to keep herself upright at the feel of his clever fingers stroking her, entering her. She moaned.

All too soon, though, it was over, he pulled his hand away. She gasped her disappointment, her need for release even more apparent now she had been so tantalisingly close to it.

He brought his fingers to his mouth, and tasted them. He smirked down at her. She could only guess at what a state she was in, sweaty and eye glazed and cheeks pink.

To her surprise, after watching her a moment more, he dropped to his knees in front of her, pushing her dress aside once more, and this time pulling her panties down until she was able to step out of them, which she did obediently. He wrapped one of his arms tightly around her hips and buttocks, so tight it was almost painful. It rooted her to the place.

He breathed on her clit, and even that was enough to elicit a small moan. Then, with one hand, Lucius inserted two fingers, then three, into her, stroking her inside, fucking her gently. She clenched around his fingers, listening to the obscene sound of her own wetness in the silence of the room. Then he began to lick her. First, long, agonising strokes of her tongue, a soft nibble here and there, before he began to lavish attention on her clit.

Her legs shook with the warmth and pleasure that spread up her, and only his strong grip of her hips kept up upright. Her fingers laced in his hair, gripping tightly. He grunted an appreciative sound as she wound her fingers in it, pulling his mask off.

Waves of pleasure coursed through her, starting at the point of contact with his lips, his fingers, and travelling up her spine, the back of her neck, shooting warmth down her thighs. She looked down: the sight of the blonde pureblood, so desperate to taste her he hadn’t bothered to take off her dress, knelt between her legs, made her groan. She groaned and ground against his mouth.

Her whole body was hot, too warm, and she strained against his arms, but he held fast. She wanted him to lick more, harder, but she also wanted to be released from the building intensity that clawed at her. Intoxicating and irresistible, her blood churning in her ears. She clamped down on her cry as she came, hands tightening in his hair, whole body shaking as her brain overloaded with pleasure and she let out a half-sob.

When she came back to herself, she was breathing heavily, breathe ragged, her limbs feeling thick and heavy still. A release from her desperate need for pleasure was merciful.

He stood up, and kissed her deeply. He tasted like her, mouth still slick with her juices. She kissed back greedily, the heady scent only heightening her feelings.

He pulled back. His eyes were dark and there was a self-satisfied, infuriating little smirk on his face.

“What do you think?” he said, licking his lips. “Do you still need a fuck?”

She gulped down a breath, steadied herself. She was a grown woman, not one that needed to fall to bits at the behest of Lucius Malfoy — but her pussy still clenched and she would not be forgetting that tongue quickly.

“Yes,” she breathed. She licked her lips, nodded.

His smirk widened, a little bit of tooth showing.

“Then lets get you out of this silly little dress,” he said.

With the stroke of one clever finger, he slid the flimsy strap off one of her shoulders, and then the other two. The dress fell without much ceremony, and she gasped at her sudden nakedness, swallowed to be seen by his hungry eyes, which regarded her carefully.

“You are more lovely than I imagined,” he said.

He kissed her again, and this time Lily could feel him unbuckling, hear him unzipping. He brought one hand up to her face, and as he pulled away, moved his thumb roughly against her bottom lip.

“Can I see what that pretty little mouth can do?” he said.

She looked down, panted at the sight of his hard cock, now free of the constraints of her trousers, ready for her. She didn’t even think before she took to her knees. She appreciated the little sound that escaped Lucius as her fingers slid, testing, up the length of him, pausing to stroke at his head.

She couldn’t resist for long though, and soon she was exploring his head with her mouth, nibbling at the sides. As she licked from base to tip, he faffed with her hair, until he’d released it from its hairband. He grabbed a handful of it, held on tightly as she bobbed back and forth. She looked up at him, watched his adam’s apple bob as he gulped out breaths and filthy little throaty sounds.

His hips bucked, and she relaxed her throat to let him in further. But he pulled back. She could feel his hips shaking in the effort to keep still. She tried to pull at them, to encourage him to move. She so wanted to be grabbed and fucked roughly. But when he didn’t respond, she let his cock go.

“Fuck my face,” she said. Her voice was hoarse and slick.

He looked down at her, eyebrows raising. He gulped.

“Really?”

“Really,” she said. “I want you to fuck it.”

The look of surprise was replaced with pure, hungry lust. He placed his hands on either side of her face, grabbing clumps of hair with it. He took one tentatively thrust, and she relaxed her throat, stared up at him, urging him as best she could with her eyes to do more, to thrust harder.

He thrust again, a little further this time, then again, and then more, harder, his eyes boring into her as his cock slammed against the back of her throat, moved in and out of her lips. She moaned around it, feeling her wetness grow with each thrust. He was grunting, his face almost reverent as he watched her.

She slid a hand down to play with herself as he went. Now she was naked, there was no barrier to get in the way. It seemed he noticed, because he let out a groan and sped up, slamming against the back of her throat, exactly as hard as she was hoping. She sped up her own fingers too, sliding over her slick clit.

He came with a cry, hot come coating her throat, and she swallowed it greedily.

He stopped thrusting abruptly, and while one hand loosened its grip on her hair, the other fell completely to his side. He was breathing heavily, his face shining with sweat.

Lily kept him in her mouth, enjoying feeling him soften — though, not all the way. After a moment, when he seemed to regain his composure, straightening up, she began to suck gently. He let out a breath, stroked her face with his free hand.

“What a good mouth you have,” he said breathily. “I won’t be forgetting that in a hurry.”

She smiled around his cock, gave it a hard suck and smiled even wider at his hand tightening, his jaw clenching. She wanted him, badly, inside of her, but too she enjoyed him at her mercy.

“Enough now,” he said, and pulled her upright. She let herself be pulled. He kissed her, his mouth warm and wet, the velvet of his robes against her breasts tantalising but without enough friction for her. She rubbed herself against his still exposed cock, gasped as he thrust back into her clit.

He was kissing her deeply, even more needy than she was, growling into her mouth as he thrust against her, holding her arse for purchase. She pulled his robes off of him and with shaking fingers unbuttoned him, ran her hands over his chest.

“Get on the bed,” he said, breaking free of her mouth. “I’m going to fuck you now.”

She took a step back, lay down eagerly. There would be nothing to dissuade her now, so close to getting the thorough fucking she so desperately craved. She watched him, but he shook his head.

“On your hands and knees.”

The sight of him stroking his cock while his eyes roved her body was too much to bear. She turned over, ready, elbows and knees on the bed.

For an awful, eternity of a few seconds, nothing happened. Her pussy ached to be touched, and she couldn’t stop her arse from swaying in invitation.

“Fuck me, for Merlin’s sake,” she said, desperately.

He chuckled, but there was no movement, no cock being stuffed inside of her. A single one of his long fingers trailed up her slit and she whimpered, leant back against it before it disappeared again. She heard the wet sucking of his mouth as he tasted her off his finger.

One of his hands grabbed her hips. There was so much anticipatory excitement coursing through her but it was driving her to despair. She looked down at the duvet, bunched in her hands.

She felt him line his cock up with her hole, so slick now that there was almost no resistance as he pressed his bulbous head in. She moaned through clenched teeth, fingers tightening their grip on the sheets. In a moment, he had slid all the way inside of her, filling every inch of her, and she cried out, pitching forward, eyes fluttering closed. Only his hands grabbing at her hips kept her steady. He grunted.

He leant over her, his warm chest against her back, sweat mixing between them. She could feel his chest moving, breath ragged. Just for a moment, they were still. Lily felt almost like she were being embraced by a lover. Which, while sweet at the best of times, was the last thing she wanted right now. What she wanted for him to fulfil the burning need for fucking.

After the moment passed, thankfully he pulled back. Slowly, agonisingly slowly. She desperately tried to keep still, to enjoy the sensation of every inch of him pulling out of her. All she could do was grit her teeth, curl her toes. Slow and steady was delicious but terrible in equal measure.

Then he rammed back into her, hard and brutal, pleasure coursing through her as he repeated himself, the echoes of each forward thrust being enough to make up for the agonising pull back.

He began to speed up, one hand leaving her hip to curl into her hair. The sharp sting in her scalp mixed with the feeling of his cock was enough to make her moan some wordless, senseless shit. It was hard to concentrate on anything but that. He fucked her roughly, as deliciously roughly as her heat demanded, the room filled with the sound of his grunts and her moans and her lewd wetness. It stunk of sex and Lily could barely wrench her eyes open, enjoying him inside her, tight and warm within her pussy, her breasts bobbing with each thrust, nipples hard.

Until finally, mercifully, his other hand went to her clit. There was no delicacy here, nor did she want any, and it took only seconds before she found herself tipping over the edge, clenching around his cock as she came, kept from tipping forward altogether by his hands alone. She cried out, breath coming uneasily to her.

He sped up further as her head returned from dizzying heights, and with a few, erratic thrusts, he came inside of her, thick and warm and filling her with a grunt.

His hands loosened their grips, and she collapsed onto the bed, breathing hard. That had been exactly what she’d needed, what she’d burnt for. She swallowed.

She was aware of his breathing hard behind her, of her own breaths coming deep now. Her pussy was still clenching from her orgasm. It had been exactly what she’d needed. The source had been…unexpected, though.

Of course, now, freshly fucked and finally free of the niggling voice of her cunt making her decisions for her, she did have to reckon with one little detail: that she had fucked the person who was ostensibly the enemy.

“Well,” Lucius said, behind her. He was breathless too, but she could hear the smirk in his voice without even lifting her head. “I will definitely be extending an invite to you next time.”

She groaned.

“I don’t think this will be happening again, Lucius,” she said firmly, scrambling right-side up, trying to ignore the come that was leaking out of her. She grabbed at her knickers, which had luckily not gone too far. “A one time thing.”

His cheeks were pink, his face shining with a thin layer of sweat. He raised an eyebrow at her.

“I’ll send one out, just in case,” he said.

Her senses were coming back to her, even if her body still felt wrung out from orgasm, her hands shaking as she picked up her dress. It didn’t help that he stood there, watching her as he buttoned his shirt back up.

“You may want to wash your face,” she said. “I don’t think that shade of red quite suits you.”

He touched a hand to his face, further smearing the red lipstick on his lips and inspected his fingers. He grinned.

“You don’t think this would go fetchingly with my mask?” he asked.

“Not really, no,” she said.

Her brain was starting to fill with fog. She was tired, extremely so. She’d been so nervous about this party, and her heat’s desire so pent up, that a fuck and multiple releases had exhausted her. She gathered the rest of her belongings, though when her fingers failed at retying her mask a second time, Lucius came up behind her and helped. His warm fingers brushed against the fine hairs on the back of her neck, and she shivered.

“Is there a way for me to leave without having to go past every guest here?” she said. She needed to get out of there in a hurry, both so she could sleep and so she wouldn’t fall prey to temptation again.

“There’s some Floo powder there, if you wish to make a very speedy exit,” he said, still behind her. His arm over her shoulder, he pointed at the fetching porcelain jug on the mantle. She would have mistaken it for an art piece, not an actual receptacle. “Though you’re welcome to stay for longer, if you wish.”

She hesitated, only for a moment, before shaking her head. His breath on her neck was too much to handle, so she stepped away, turned to him.

“This was a mistake. Let us perhaps never speak of this again,” Lily said. “Would that work for you?”

Lucius shrugged, nodded.

“If that’s what you desire, yes,” Lucius said. “I am nothing if not a gentleman.”

“Hmm,” she said doubtfully. He was not what she would define as a gentleman of any persuasion. “Well, then. Thank you for, uh, all this.” She waved vaguely to the crumpled bed linens.

“The pleasure was all mine, I assure you,” he said.

“Uh, yes. Okay. Bye, Lucius,” she said.

She tried to walk into the fireplace, head held high, but she more scampered, and the fireplace was a bit too small for her anyway so she had to duck down to get in there. It was not as elegant an exit as she might have hoped.

She was grateful to stumble into the living room of her flat. It was fresh and clean and didn’t stink of sex.

She would have to worry about what excuses to make to the Order in the moment. She hoped a shower and a good night’s sleep might lend itself to some creativity. At least, she had a single name: Amycus Carrow. Hopefully that would be enough.


End file.
